


Cold There in My Shadow

by amycarey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/F, Fluff, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 02:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4943041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amycarey/pseuds/amycarey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelena’s reformed now. Mostly. And she’s getting a bit frustrated at this ridiculous dance between Regina and Emma. What’s a girl to do but employ a few tropes?</p>
<p>Henry remains dubious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold There in My Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coalitiongirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/gifts).



> For coalitiongirl on her birthday. I am so sorry for ruining your problematic fave and the… loose approach to canon. Most of this was written on trains and buses.
> 
> Title from ‘Wind Beneath my Wings’ by Bette Midler, which makes no sense except that just imagine Zelena singing this to Regina at karaoke at the Rabbit Hole because she thinks it will really embarrass her.

Mom stands down at the shore line, arms wrapped around herself. She’s shivering, he can tell even from a distance, though he doesn’t think it’s from the cold, and he’s got half a mind to head down with the picnic blanket he knows is buried in the trunk of the Mercedes, but then Ma’s there. Ma’s there and she wraps her jacket around Mom and pulls her close.

 

“Nauseating, isn’t it?” Zelena (who keeps calling herself his aunty because she is The Worst) says.

 

He turns to look at her. She’s super pregnant now, belly rounded and she’s not trying to hide it anymore. There was always a sense, he felt, that Zelena was uncomfortable in her pregnant state, wearing clothing that minimised the bump, sneering at anyone who suggested her ‘delicate condition’ might mean she shouldn’t, like, perform magic or eat sushi.

 

Now that Robin has pissed off to Camelot for good or whatever (when they discovered Marian was a) not dead b) staying with her cousin, Guinevere c) happily engaged to Lancelot and d) Robin decided Roland needed both his parents in one place) and Zelena is ‘good’ now, she’s letting the bump reign supreme. “Oh, my ankles,” she has said too often to count, but mostly whenever Mom’s asking her to help with stuff around the house. Or, “I have cravings,” when Henry catches her with a pint of Rocky Road at three in the morning. Or, worse still, “I want you to be my birth partner,” this said to Henry, not Mom. He’d actually looked up what this would involve (because Mom had said to try to be supportive) and he’d had nightmares for a week. Mom’s mouth had thinned when she’d found out what Zelena had asked and there’d been several tense, hissed conversations in the guest room.

 

“I think it’s nice,” he says.

 

Zelena pretends to vomit. “They’re so in love it’s sickening. They should just fuck and get it over with.”

 

This time it’s Henry’s turn to pretend vomit. He does a much more impressive job of it than Zelena and she high fives him. “Please don’t talk about my mothers like that.”

 

“Sorry, sweet cheeks,” Zelena says. “They’re totally gone on each other though.”

 

He watches them. After a moment, Mom shrugs and turns. They walk towards Henry and Zelena and Henry realises they’re holding hands. “Bet you fifty bucks I can get them admitting their undying feelings for each other before the baby’s born.”

 

Henry laughs, snorting a little. “Good luck,” he says. “They’ve been doing this dance for, like, three years.”

 

“Oh dear sweet Henry,” Zelena says, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, her fingers claw-like and grasping against his skin. “They didn’t have me.”

**i. in which a blind date goes horribly right (and so horribly wrong)**

 

As is turns out, Zelena spent the first months of her pregnancy locked up and took the opportunity to watch every show on Netflix, so her idea of plotting is tropes. So many tropes.

 

“Come on,” Zelena had whined, perched on the kitchen counter. Henry had seen the pained expression on Mom’s face because she was pretty against people sitting on counters but, equally, unwilling to say anything to disrupt this brief and desperate peace bubbling between the pair of them.

 

“I have no need for romance in my life,” Mom had said to which Zelena had scoffed.

 

“I have found someone who’s perfect for you. You’ll meet them at seven on Friday at Granny’s.”

 

“Casual?”

 

“I promise,” Zelena had said. “Just dinner. No soulmates. No true love kisses. Dinner and wine and maybe some snuggling.”

 

“So,” Henry asks. It’s seven on Friday and he’s sitting in the back booth at Granny’s with Zelena, their menus held open and upright to hide their faces. I mean, Henry’s pretty sure Mom knows they’re there because she waved at him when she entered. “What’s the end game here?” Mom’s sitting at the front table, menu open even though she has to have tried everything on Granny’s menu at least once, and feigning disinterest in everyone who walks through the door.

 

“This date’s going to be terrible,” Zelena says, flagging down a waitress. “And Emma will swoop in and save the day. Cheese burger and extra fries, cheers.”

 

“Who did you—” Henry begins, but then Mulan walks in and heads straight for Mom.

 

“Perfect, right?” Zelena says and she honest to God cackles.

 

“Um.” Henry looks over. Mom’s smiling softly across at Mulan and Mulan sits just a little too close, leaning forward and in the soft candlelight they are beautiful together, skin glowing golden. “I think Mulan might be Mom’s type?” he ventures.

 

Zelena scoffs. “She’s so _boring_ ,” she says. “And _honourable_ and _self-sacrificing_ and…” Her eyes widen and her lips curl into a pout. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah,” Henry says. “Oh.” From their distance he can hear Mom laugh and brush her hair back behind her ear.

 

“Well,” Zelena says. “This can still work.”

 

It is at that moment that Ma enters the diner. She sees Regina and Mulan sitting together and her face bears the expression that Mom calls her ‘kicked puppy’ look. “Mulan, Regina,” she says, nodding at the pair of them. “Fancy seeing you here. Together.”

 

Mom smiles. “Blind date. My sister,” and Henry doesn’t miss the fondness lacing every syllable of that word, “set us up.”

 

Zelena is clenching the menu so tightly her knuckles are white. “This is not happening,” she mutters. “I will not have my sister fall for another honourable bore.”

 

“Mulan’s not boring,” Henry says because last week she’d taught him how to use chopsticks by pelting him with rice every time he got it wrong and she’s taken on duties down at the sheriff station to help out Ma and she’s much better at Ma at trashcan basketball and arm wrestling and actually upholding law and order in Storybrooke.

 

“Please,” Zelena sighs. “She’s awful.”

 

Ma’s skin is paler than usual, but for a flush of red in her cheeks, and her lips are pulled taut. She mutters something and Mulan glares, standing, ready to fight, but Mom puts a hand on Ma’s arm, which immediately relaxes her, and Henry wonders if Zelena might win this bet after all.

 

“Shit,” Zelena mutters and stuffs a giant chunk of fried chicken in her mouth. “Shit fuck shit.”

 

**ii. in which an elevator is tampered with (with less than sexy results)**

 

“I think the problem,” Zelena says, “is that I don’t know Emma and Regina well enough.” She’s balancing the remote to the television on her stomach and every time Henry reaches for it (because ‘Brooklyn Nine Nine’ is on and Ma’s super into it and she’ll spoil him if he doesn’t watch it immediately) some weird magic zaps his hand away.

 

(“I’m having a magic baby,” Zelena had said smugly the first time it had happened, though she’d rubbed at the cuff on her wrist curbing her magic.)

 

“I mean, that’s true,” Henry says. Last week, she’d been convinced Mom’s favourite show was ‘Game of Thrones’ when obviously it’s ‘Jane the Virgin’ because Mom has a big gay crush on Gina Rodriguez.

 

“So,” she says, “I’m going to go with a tried and true trope. The best one out.”

 

“Please don’t give my moms hypothermia,” Henry says.

 

Zelena looks thoughtful for a moment but then shakes her head. “I’m going to trap them in a confined space. A closet seems all too ironic, doesn’t it?”

 

He rolls his eyes. “For someone who’s a friend of Dorothy you make a lot of jokes about Mom and Ma’s sexualities.”

 

“How dare you?” Zelena hisses, mouth screwing up into an angry ball of hate and rage, before she recalls her pop cultural references and laughs. “Perhaps an elevator?”

 

Henry rolls his eyes. “I don’t know that this is a great plan either.”

 

“It’s a perfect plan,” Zelena says. “It happened on ‘Castle’ and ‘Bones’ and even ‘You’ve Got Mail’. It’s a romance staple.”

 

“Yeah, but…” Henry says.

 

Zelena places a finger over his lips. “Shhh,” she says, and keeps saying it until he gives up.

 

The next day, he walks home from school via his mom’s office and finds a crowd outside the elevator in town hall. “What’s happening?” he asks and then he sees Zelena hiding behind a pillar, rounded belly poking out, and sighs.

 

“Regina and Emma are trapped in the elevator, which has apparently become magic proof,” Mulan says. There is a loud cackle from behind the pillar and Mulan looks around, before shrugging. “Your aunt is a weirdo,” she says. “And should possibly be kept away from society?”

 

Henry shrugs. “My whole family’s weird,” he says and Mulan pats him on the back so strongly that he falls over.

 

“I’m sorry, kid,” she says and at that moment an alarming noise emits from the elevator.

 

“Help!” It’s Emma. “Oh God. Get me—I can’t…” She breathes heavily and too quickly; Henry can hear the panic in her voice and he feels sick. The line goes dead.

 

“Sheriff Swan is claustrophobic, apparently,” Mulan says. She and Henry swivel and glare over at the now suspiciously silent pillar. “Your aunt is terrible,” Mulan says.

 

Henry shrugs again.

 

Eventually Mom and Ma are rescued, by which point Ma has to be supported out of the elevator. Henry holds up one side while Mom hold her other side and they escort her out to the Mercedes. “No,” Ma says, voice hoarse. “Need space.”

 

Mom meets Henry’s eyes over Ma’s head and poofs the three of them to the mansion, where she sits Ma on the couch and removes her boots and sends Henry to the kitchen to make cocoa. When he returns with a mug in each hand, he stands in the doorway for a moment, just watching them.

 

“…locked me in,” Ma says. Her voice is quiet and shaky and he doesn’t miss Mom’s hand on her shoulder, doesn’t miss the slow concentric circles being rubbed against her bare, shaking skin. “I had nightmares for most of my childhood.”

 

“Oh Emma,” Mom sighs. Henry coughs and Mom swivels. “Sit with your mother, dear,” she says. “I have to speak with my sister.”

 

Henry’s really glad he’s not in Zelena’s shoes right now.

 

**iii. in which Zelena employs a classic trope (and becomes a teen vandal while she’s at it)**

“So,” Henry asks. “Do you give up?” Zelena’s due to give birth in, like, three weeks and he has plans for that fifty dollars.

 

Zelena doesn’t answer for a moment, so focused on typing a message on her phone. He looks over her shoulder and reads the phrase _I’d send you bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils_ , and shudders. “Mills women never surrender,” she says and Henry snorts. “No, I have a new plan. It involves close proximity again.”

 

“Seriously,” Henry says. “If you give either of my moms hypothermia, I will murder you.” It had been bad enough with Elsa around.

 

Zelena just smiles and taps her nose with her index finger.

 

It’s Friday night, which means family night, which basically means the Charmings descend on their house _en masse_ , Snow toting a diaper bag, several plates of food and a harassed expression, while David carries Neal. Henry is immediately suspicious at Zelena’s solicitousness upon their arrival; normally she hides upstairs until the food is served. “Let me take that,” she tells Snow, absconding with the diaper bag. She tries to take Neal from David, but he glares, free hand going to his hip as if searching for a sword, even as Neal stretches out a chubby arm and grabs at a red curl, giggling in delight.

 

Henry takes Neal instead, carrying him into the kitchen, where his true love (that is to say, Mom) is checking on the roast potatoes. He stretches out his arms, gabbling wildly. “Weena, Weena.”

 

Mom smiles. “Henry, sweetheart,” she says. “Can you grab the beans?”

 

He nods, but Neal squirms in his arms and he hears footsteps behind him. “Em-em-em-em-em,” Neal shrieks.

 

Ma ruffles Neal’s hair. “Hey, baby bro,” she says, grabbing the beans and bumping hips with Mom. “Kid.”

 

“Hey, Ma,” Henry says, watching as Ma helps Mom plate roast vegetables, the pair of them moving in a seamless dance through the kitchen.

 

“I brought Mulan,” Ma says. “That okay?” Her hand reaches out, brushes against the bow of Mom’s apron, fingertips stretched out in longing.

 

Mom shrugs. “Of course.”

 

Dinner is awkward, to say the least. Zelena is apparently not over Mulan having the temerity to get along with Mom and spends the whole evening glaring at her from across the table. Henry, stuck between Mom and Ma, finds himself kicked in the ankle several times as his mothers’ attempt to, like, play footsie or something.

 

And when everyone goes to leave they discover every tyre of every car – and Mulan’s scooter – has been let down. “Oh no!” Zelena says in a voice of patently false horror. “I suppose you shall have to all stay here tonight.”

 

“I could—” Mom starts.

 

“The Charmings can take the spare guest room,” Zelena continues as though Mom has not spoken. “I suppose Emma will have to share with someone. Say, Regina?”

 

Ma flushes a blotchy scarlet. Mom frowns like she knows exactly what Zelena is doing. “And Mulan? She will sleep with you I suppose?”

 

Mulan’s hand reaches for her holster. Zelena’s lip curls. “I suppose,” she says and then brightens. “Yes! I am willing to make sacrifices. You do your bit too, sis, to help the poor stranded guests. That’s settled. Who needs pyjamas?”

 

Henry escapes to his room after that and falls asleep to the dulcet tones of Zelena’s complaining. “Stick to your side, Ping,” and “this is so much less cute in real life”. When he wakes – far too early – he pads past his mom’s bedroom and peeks in. Mom’s sleeping in bed, alone, face shrouded by her hair. Henry wonders for a moment whether Ma ended up on the downstairs couch – despite Zelena’s flimsy excuse about it being back-breakingly difficult to sleep on – but then he sees her. Ma is curled up on the long chair by the window, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and an expression of absolute contentment on her face. She looks rather like she’s guarding Mom, the lone sentry.

 

On his return from the bathroom he sees the door to Zelena’s room is open. In it, Zelena lies on her back, snoring loudly. Curled up beside her, palm clenched into the fabric of Zelena’s nightgown and head resting on Zelena’s shoulder, is Mulan. Though their legs are hidden by the blankets, Henry suspects they are intertwined.

 

Henry takes a discreet photo on his phone, grins and pads back to bed.

 

**iv. in which fate becomes a topic of conversation again (and in the Mills family we make our own fate)**

 

“This is your worst idea ever,” Henry says, slumping into one of the kitchen chairs and opening his math text book, “and you gave Ma a panic attack last month.”

 

Zelena throws him a dark look and then turns back to Tinkerbell, who is hogtied to a kitchen chair. “Right, pixie,” Zelena says. “You’re going to do something for me.”

 

Tink rolls her eyes so hard Henry thinks they might fall out of her head. Zelena holds the butter knife menacingly to her throat. The blunt edge of the knife creates a red pressure mark on her skin. “Okay,” Tink says, scowling. “What do you need?”

 

“Tinkerbell, I am so glad you asked,” Zelena says, smiling her crocodile grin. “I need you to fake a soulmate story.”

 

Later, Henry is having dinner with Mom at Granny’s when Tink runs in. Clutching her side, she gasps for air at their booth. “Regina,” she says between sputters. “Important information. New soulmate.”

 

Mom hears the word soulmate and sighs. Henry could have told Zelena that’d happen if she listened for, like, thirty seconds. “I’m really not interested, dear.”

 

Tink appears momentarily devastated. She’s really getting into character. “But—soulmate!” she squeaks, shaking the vial of pixie dust.

 

“I’m not letting fate make any more choices for me,” Mom says and reaches out to squeeze Henry’s hand. “In the Mills family we make our own destiny.”

 

“Oh, _come on_!” Zelena says, appearing from the next booth. It’s a somewhat ungainly move given she’s, like, three days away from her due date and so it’s less a sudden appearance and more a slow waddle. “This was a good one.”

 

Mom looks at Zelena. “And where would Tink’s pixie dust have led me?”

 

“You honestly don’t know?” Zelena asks and swears. “You are so _fucking_ clueless, sis.”

 

“Um,” Henry says.

 

“In a moment, dear,” Mom says. “No, Zelena, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” There is a dangerous quality to her voice, almost evil queen-esque but then Zelena does bring that out in Mom (when she’s not just bringing out massive headaches).

 

“But,” Henry says. At that moment Ma comes into the diner, beaming over at the assembled group, and several things happen at once. Tink’s pixie dust goes haywire, buzzing and sparkling. Mom narrows her eyes, lips pursing, fingers clenching. And Ma runs over, skidding in the puddle of water at Zelena’s feet and falling on her back.

 

“Emma!” Mom cries.

 

“Ow,” Ma says. “Ow ow ow.”

 

“I meant you and Emma, you dipstick,” Zelena yells.

 

“So I think Zelena’s waters broke,” Henry says.

 

**v. in which a wager is lost (but Henry’s still out fifty bucks)**

“She’s beautiful,” Mulan says, finger tickling the bundle of blankets and baby being held by Zelena. Henry’s inclined to agree, even though mostly his baby cousin looks rather like a squashed tomato.

 

Zelena stares at the baby as though she’s never seen something so perfect in her life and it’s kind of… nice? “You did good,” he says.

 

Zelena scowls up at him, but her face is too soft for it to have any real impact. “You were the worst birth partner ever,” she says.

 

“That’s because I _wasn’t_ your birth partner,” he replies, though he stretches out his fingers because Zelena insisted on crushing every bone in his hand on the ambulance ride to the hospital. “You owe me fifty bucks, by the way,” he says.

 

“Sure, peanut, whatever you say,” Zelena says, not looking up from the baby. “Fetch me some water.” He’s never getting his money but, somehow, he can’t bring himself to be upset about that, not right now.

 

He looks back for a moment and watches as Mulan brushes a lock of hair away from Zelena’s face. “Henry’s right,” she says. “You have done well.” And Zelena beams.

 

He heads down the hall towards the vending machines and it’s there, in the stairwell, that he sees them, sitting together on the steps. Mom’s got her head resting on Ma’s shoulder and Ma’s stroking her hair. He watches for a moment, watches as Ma presses a kiss to Mom’s parting, as Mom looks up at her in delighted wonder, hand reaching out to caress her face. “You’re a wonder, Emma Swan,” Mom says.

 

Ma smiles, before looking across and seeing Henry. “Kid! Hey!”

 

“Have you finally figured it out?” he asks, moving forward and sticking a couple of dollar bills into the machine.

 

Mom looks over at Ma and then back at him. “Yes, my darling boy. I believe we have.”

 

“Good,” he says. The water _thunks_ out and he grabs it. “When you’ve finished being lovey-dovey in a dingy stairwell, there’s a baby to name and Aunty Zelena owes me fifty bucks.” And he leaves them to their cuddling.

 

After all, Zelena might be mostly reformed now but he’s not risking delaying her water any longer.


End file.
